


It’s bound to ruin ya, honey

by giurochedadomani



Category: Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: (not by Leonardo or to Leonardo's family), Drug Use, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giurochedadomani/pseuds/giurochedadomani
Summary: He shakes Leonardo off when he passes his fingers lightly over the blooming bruise on his cheekbone. His mood comes crashing down. He suddenly feels small, so very ridiculous, like when he used to take refuge in Leonardo and Regina’s house after a row with his father. Leave it to Leonardo not to leave him licking his wounds in solitude and peace.“I fail to see how is it any of your fucking business”.The point is, Vittorio also has broad shoulders, and a disarming laugh, and a curly mane of hair not much different from Leonardo’s, but he’s not married, and he actually wants Primo. It’s so exhilarating, being wanted. Primo has let him introduce him to many new experiences, starting by cocaine highs.Or, Primo kisses Leonardo for the first time while being as high as a kite.
Relationships: Leonardo/Primo Nizzuto
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	It’s bound to ruin ya, honey

“Leave him”. 

Primo giggles. 

“You don’t even have to actually kill the guy. Didn’t he want to go back to Sicily, or something? Tell him to fuck off”. 

Leonardo’s cardigan is snug on the other’s broad shoulders. There’s a stain on his chest, and it’s dark, so it looks like blood, but it’s probably tomato sauce. When was the last time Regina prepared lasagna? He’d lick the sauce of the plate if he didn’t risk her kicking him out the table. Fuck, he’s starving.

“Let’s go to Alfredo’s!” 

“ _It’s three in the morning_ ”. 

Primo doesn’t see any problem. He grabs Leonardo’s arm and tries to push him forward, but the other doesn’t bulge. Does he need some convincing? He can do some convincing. “I can tell him to get us a table, even if the place is full. The bastard owes me a favour big time! He ought to break the good wine”. 

“Will you, fuck”, Leonardo pulls him back to him. “Will you listen to me, for the love of God?” 

What Primo would really, _really_ like to do with Leonardo right in this moment is to dance. He’s very clumsy, and laughs a lot, which makes Primo tingle all over when he’s the cause of it. He could probably tease him enough to get him to grab him. Leonardo is so very easy to rile up. “And the music— you know he’s got the _best_ music. Le Orme, and Premiata Forneria Marconi, and the others, the ones who use bases of, of classical stuff—” 

Fuck, what they were called? It’s going to bother him until he remembers. It’s something in English, that’s for sure. Leonardo probably knows, he’s good when it comes to remembering things. He wonders whether or not he could get him to teach him some phrases in English. He’d be a quick student. If Leonardo asked, _he’d behave very well_.

“You cannot continue like this”. 

Leonardo’s glaring at him, and while it’s adorable, why is he glaring at him? He’s not _exactly_ glaring _at him_ , though. He’s focusing his eyes on the left side of Primo’s face, and Primo’s been ignoring that, and Vittorio, and specially and specifically Vittorio slapping him hard enough to leave a bruise for the better part of the last hour, so he doesn’t see why he should stop now. 

“Like what?” 

He shakes Leonardo off when he passes his fingers lightly over the blooming bruise on his cheekbone. His mood comes crashing down. He suddenly feels small, so very ridiculous, like when he used to take refuge in Leonardo and Regina’s house after a row with his father. Leave it to Leonardo not to leave him licking his wounds in solitude and peace. 

“I fail to see how is it any of your fucking business”. 

The point _is_ , Vittorio also has broad shoulders, and a disarming laugh, and a curly mane of hair not much different from Leonardo’s, but he’s not married, and he actually wants Primo. It’s so exhilarating, being wanted. Primo has let him introduce him to many new experiences, starting by cocaine highs. 

Vittorio can be gentle, when he puts his mind to it, though it’s his mean streak, the one that has won Salvatore over in a matter of months. While it has been liberating seeing his uncle fester in hypocrisy as he actually gives praise to a guy the old man _knows_ he fucks on the regular, the fact that Primo is still fighting for a place at his uncle’s table has driven a little bit of a wedge between them. There have been— fights. Physical fights. But no, _no_. Whatever Leonardo’s implying— Primo gives as much as he receives. 

Leonardo’s tone is serious enough to make him actually listen to whatever he’s rambling about. Primo knows Leonardo’s very intelligent, and that his advice is to be taken into account. He wouldn’t have survived this long next to his uncle if he wasn’t. So Primo tries to picture himself telling Salvatore that he has been forced to drive Vittorio off Calabria and instantly he can almost hear his uncle’s voice going on and on about the untrustworthiness of fags while Primo is in the same fucking room. 

“And then, what? I tell him to fuck off, do I gain anything, besides— having to deal with Salvatore gloating about it for months?” 

He’d rather keep taking the beat— He’d rather keep on the fights. 

“You’re doing all of this to piss your uncle off? To get him to chase you off the village?”

The first time Salvatore kicked him off his house, he was sixteen, and he had just taken a beating after being caught making out with another boy by the river. He had spent the whole night on Leonardo and Regina’s sofa, Leonardo’s fussiness helping him ignore how his bruised chest burned every time he tried to breathe. 

He has fought so very hard to have this flimsy say in his uncle’s business that the idea of being kicked off, again, and having to start anew, fucking again, makes his blood boil. He wonders if Leonardo’s as tired as him. It must be exhausting, the amount of time he wastes covering Primo’s ass. Maybe that’s why he’s going on and on about this: he’s probably just trying to get the problem that Primo constitutes out of his plate. 

“Do _you_ want to chase me off? Back to Rome?” 

“How’s that related to anything?” 

In any other circumstance, he would find Leonardo’s confused look hysterical, now it just makes him itch for a fight. His tolerance for Leonardo’s advice is plummeting by the moment, especially now that he cannot think about anything, but in how Leonardo wants him so very little that he wants him out of the village. Primo’s chest’s constricting very painfully. 

He tries to step out, but now it’s Leonardo the one who grabs him. 

“I don’t want you to fucking die, you see? I don’t want to wonder whether I’m going to find your body in a ditch every night I hear you both shouting at each other. I don’t— ”, Leonardo stops himself. 

Primo can feel the ice in his veins. _Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it._

“I don’t want you to end up like your mother!” 

Primo’s mother died when he was fifteen. Salvatore took a long look at Primo’s father, his brother, and sentenced that it had been an accident. 

Primo’s father didn’t survive his wife for long. Primo said it had been an accident, too. 

Primo wants to shout. He wants to punch Leonardo, and also grab him by the lapels and— he pushes him. Leonardo’s back hits the wall with a loud thud. 

Primo cups his face and kisses him.

He releases his grip as if it burns after a moment. He wills his breaths to even out, and he straightens his jacket, and waits for a reaction, any kind of reaction. He can feel his heart on his throat. His head, pounding, makes him dizzy. 

Leonardo won’t even look at him. 

Primo leaves the room pretending he’s not fleeing and blaming his unsteady stomach on the end of the high. 


End file.
